


Worth Having

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: Titan AE (2000)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cale finds a creative way to thank his Captain for saving his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Having

“C’mon, kid. You’re no use to me dead.” 

Captain Joseph Korso hauled Cale Tucker’s unconscious adolescent form across the docking bay threshold . . . only to unceremoniously plop him in the corner. He had to check the boy for injuries. No time to be fancy about it. 

Korso grimaced as he lifted the worn tank top up, exposing taut pectoral muscles and a long, lanky abdomen. Smooth, tanned skin; unmarred. No laser holes, alien ooze, or ship shrapnel; the captain let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

He shook his head. Of all the surviving humans floating around in space, Cale had to be the top-notch of their species. The smartest, the fastest, the most skilled . . . the cockiest. And his one and only ticket for survival. 

“Hey, kid.” Korso bent down over Cale, peering into that young face. A face that transformed into rage instantly, the moment those blue eyes snapped open. 

He had about one second to dodge the swift kick aimed at his head, opting to go low and pin the boy’s arms to the floor. 

“Kid! Kid! It’s me!” Korso choked out, his breath puffing over blond strands of hair. 

“Oh . . . Captain . . . It’s you.” 

Korso rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. You remember me? I just saved your ass.” 

Cale huffed. “Ha! You saved my ass? I think you got that backwards, Captain.” 

Grinning, he shifted slightly, looking the boy straight in the eyes. Patience, he reminded himself. “Is that so, Cale? So, let me get this straight . . . I walk in to find two slobbering aliens chasing you around the hall like cats with a little mouse,” he paused to widen his smirk, “and then I tie them up and teach them a lesson for you.” 

“Now, wait, I—” 

“Then, after their escape I save you from them . . . again—”

“Korso—” 

“Now, wait, wait, let me think here . . . Hm . . . Then after that, when the Drej arrive, I got us out of that death trap and rescued you to safety. Right? So, um, when exactly was it that you saved my ass? Mm?” 

Cale sneered at him and quickly feigned interest in the ceiling. 

Korso let his mind wander for a moment, tracing the crest of golden hair to the wisps sticking to the boy’s firm jaw. His calculating eyes moved up to see the boy’s temple and finally over the chiseled cheek bones. That kid would make a fine man one day. A day not too far off. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to say thank you, Cale.” 

“ ‘Thank you, Cale.’ All right, Korso, you can let me up now.” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

Korso laughed a little bit. “Not ‘til you say thank you.” 

Cale squirmed a bit. “C’mon man, you’re freakin’ me out over here.” 

“Either you thank me properly, or you’ll have to fight your way free.” Korso clamped down on the boy, trying to hide his thrill at pinning that luscious young body beneath his own. 

A shadow passed over the kid’s face, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I bet you get off on this kind of shit, don’t you, Captain? You probably hang around space stations waiting for guys to ‘thank you’ all the time, am I right? Huh?” 

With speed almost too fast for the human eye to catch, Korso took up both slender wrists within his left hand’s grasp. His right hand came out to cup Cale’s chin, the gentle grip in stark contrast to the deadly message in his eyes. 

In a voice a little more husky than he would have liked, Korso murmured, “I usually don’t have to ask . . . to be ‘thanked,’ Cale.” 

The boy unconsciously licked his lips, the action drawing the captain’s attention downward. 

“Yeah, I guess not.” 

Korso caught the slight, shuddering breath between the words. He leaned down ever so slightly, his lips hovering just barely over Cale’s. “Let me prove it to you.” 

He wasn’t expecting the boy to strike just then; he barely registered the tightening of Cale’s abdomen. The sound of the boy’s clunky work boot connecting with the back of his head came as a total surprise. For a moment, Korso had to focus merely on staying conscious, and by the time he regained his senses, Cale had him smooshed, face-first, to the floor. 

“Nugh feh wa t sye funk oo.” 

“What?” Cale’s amused voice rang out above him. The boy let up a little, so he could remove his mouth from the cold steel tile. 

“Not the way to say thank you.” 

“Oh really?” Cale pushed forward a little, his hips tapping Korso’s backside ever so slightly. “Funny, this is always the way I’ve said—” 

Korso rolled, twisting out of the boy’s hold and smacking him up against the square side of a power converter. “Not with me it isn’t.” 

They sat there for a moment, staring at each other, Korso’s flat palms pressing Cale into the metallic box. 

“Tsk, tsk, touchy, touchy!” Cale grinned. 

Korso cocked his head to the side for a moment, then clutched a hand full of hair and brought the boy as close as he dared. “I can teach you better ways to get my attention, Cale.” 

Cale groaned and began to fight back in earnest. They grappled with each other for a while, twisting and tilting to try and gain advantage. Cale got in a few choice punches before Korso knocked him on his ass with a playful roundhouse. He didn’t really want to hurt the boy, just take a little of that wind out of his sails . . . Judging by the fiery glint in Cale’s eyes, one kick wasn’t gonna cut it. 

They continued to scuffle, the squeak of boots along the floor and panting breaths the only sounds in the docking bay. They had invested too much in it by now, neither one of them was gonna give up. Winning wouldn’t be an easy task, both of them in perfect physical condition and in the prime of life. The boy had speed and agility, Korso had to credit him that. But he had experience, and the wisdom to wait for the right opportunity. 

Which presented itself when Cale fell for his fake right hook. He lashed out his left leg, sweeping the boy off his feet and bringing them both down to the floor with a heavy thud. The exact same position they were in five minutes ago, with Cale’s trembling form locked beneath Korso’s.

They said nothing, their breaths mingling as the seconds ticked by. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why he did it. On the whole, it probably wasn’t his wisest choice of actions. But Korso when saw an opportunity, he always took it. He closed the inches of baited breath distancing them, sealing the gap between their mouths with a kiss. 

A kiss instantly returned, he found with surprise. A slight moan, and the youth was pressed tightly against him, his mouth opening wider. Hungry and wild, Cale drew him in deeply, all the while, begging for more with pleading little whimpers. Korso was unable to resist. He angled his head slightly, and ground his full weight into the body beneath his. 

“Mmmmmm!” Cale groaned, arching up to mold himself to Korso’s body. 

The kiss turned frantic, tongues warring desperately for dominance. No quarter asked or given, Korso tipped the boy’s head back with his large, skillful hand and swept his tongue inside. Finally, he pulled away to catch his breath. 

“Why did you stop?” 

“I wanted to make sure . . .” He panted.

“Sure?” the boy repeated. 

“Sure you wanted this, and weren’t . . . just trying to say thank you.” 

Cale gave him a cocky grin, his eyes never wavering as slender fingers found the collar of Korso’s shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew across the floor as the material split over Korso’s sculpted chest. 

“Korso,” Cale teased, “I’m trying to say please.” 

“My mistake.” Something in him snapped, and with a growl, the captain plunged back into that willing mouth, his hips rocking down to meet Cale’s. 

“Mm!” Hot, greedy little hands splayed across the captain’s upper torso, mapping the muscle there. He liked the boy’s fearless touch; he had spirit. Korso could respect that, much as he wanted to crush it against him and suck out its strength. Cale was arrogant, reckless, and dangerously unaware of his own importance. He reminded Korso of himself at that age. 

When those inquisitive hands roamed southward, smoothing along his buttocks and then squeezing possessively, Korso had to break for air again. He stared at the boy underneath him, clutching at self-control. “Cale?” 

In answer, Cale bucked up, dislodging Korso. With unpracticed grace, the boy turned to crouch on all fours, one hand going down to undo the latch to his pants. Korso’s breath caught in his throat as the boy eyed him over his tattooed shoulder. 

Slowly, Korso approached Cale, covering his smaller frame with heat and hardness. His hand rested atop Cale’s, stopping him. The captain pulled the boy back until the majority of their weight fell into Korso’s lap and onto his knees. Then, once Cale had molded to the curve of his spine, he slowly unhooked the boy’s cargo pants, letting the anticipation build. 

Cale stilled for a moment when Korso palmed him through his underwear.

“Strong, Cale. So strong . . .” Korso rubbed his hand up and down over Cale’s straining hardness, delighting when the boy humped forward. “Cale . . .” Korso let his hot breath tickle the boy’s ear, then bent his head to suck at the tender cords in that neck. 

Cale shivered. “Captain . . .”

He sneaked his hand under the clothing, his fingers tenderly stroking the boy’s twitching cock. Cale leaned back with a gasp, unable to support his weight, and Korso found he liked having the kid so helpless, and with such a small thing . . .

“ Do you want this?” Korso whispered. 

Cale nodded silently, biting his lip. A shaky hand covered Korso’s larger one, urging him. Korso fisted the straining cock, its glistening head and slender shaft causing Korso's cock to swell in sympathy. He let the boy set the pace for the moment, taking long, slow strokes, determined to touch every intimate part of him. 

Korso’s other hand wrapped around Cale’s waist, pressing the boy to him. Mild shock rippled through the captain when Cale’s hands came up to thread through his short brown hair. He let the hand holding Cale lower, cupping the boy’s heavy balls, and then pulled them out ever so gently. 

“Ah, stars, Korso!” Cale muttered, clamping down on his hair. 

He stroked the boy more harshly now, eager to draw from him those wanton little moans. His own pleasure couldn’t compare to hearing the boy try to hold back his howls. But it was happening too fast. His hand jerked up and down Cale’s dick; he couldn’t make the boy wait. 

“Ah! Ah! Kor—” Cale bit his lip, struggling to get out of Korso’s iron embrace. 

“Do it, kid. Come for me,” Korso ground out. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Korso realized the necessity of this. They had come through hell just minutes ago. They had barely escaped with their lives. The need to see this boy come all over his greedy hands seemed, at that moment, the most natural thing in the galaxy. So when Cale tipped his head back and came with a shout, his seed smearing all over Korso’s palm and forearm, he couldn’t stop himself from admitting, “Beautiful.” 

Cale collapsed to the ground, his forehead resting on the cold metal. Korso eyed him warily, trying to school his own erection away. The sight of that firm, round ass, and sleek, shuddering back did not help matters. Smirking, he crouched over the boy and nuzzled his neck. 

“Down for the count so quickly, there, space cowboy?” he teased. 

Cale shot him a look. “I never said I was down for the count. Give a man a chance to catch his breath.” 

Korso rocked back on his haunches and watched the kid struggle to sit up. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before slender hands slid up his thigh and found his raging hard-on. 

“Caught your breath?” Korso lifted an eyebrow. 

Cale shook his head. “Caught something else.” 

One sharp tug brought Korso back down on his hands and knees, mouth gaping open as the kid groped him through his pants. It was perfect, the pressure and the heat melding him . . . 

“Shit!” Korso swore through clenched teeth. 

“Captain,” the boy whispered. 

Korso winced slightly, gasping for air. 

Cale’s eyes gleamed as he unzipped Korso’s pants. His eyes went wide and that told Korso all he needed to know; for all his bravado, the kid had never seen a cock as big as Korso’s. Perhaps the boy wasn’t ready yet. Not for that, at least. 

“Cale,” the captain murmured, struggling to find words that wouldn’t sound like pity. “Why don’t you put that pretty, surly, little mouth to some use, hm?” 

Cale glanced up at him for a moment, then back down. Korso’s patience wore thin, but he forced himself to wait, and watch. After all, he had only met Cale a little over an hour ago. He had no idea what previous experiences the boy’d had. 

A coy smile curved the youth’s mouth. “And what use would that be, Captain?” His hand milked Korso boldly now, those fingers forming a tunnel so temptingly snug that the good captain had to curl his hands into fists to avoid thrusting forward. 

“Cale,” Korso warned, totally unprepared for when the youth hauled him up and slammed him against the wall. 

Immediately Cale sank to his knees, slipping Korso’s pants just below his pelvis. Warm, wet breath whispered across him, as Cale paused to inspect the veins and fleshy head of Korso’s penis. Then, with eyes feigning innocence, Cale starred up at Korso and began to lap at the head of his cock. 

Korso shouted, having to bite his hand lest he alert the whole ship to their activities. 

Like a cat with a bowl of cream, Cale bathed Korso’s shaft, his tongue rapidly lashing out, abusing his flesh in the most amazing ways. “Yeah, kid. That’s it. Uh.” 

The boy never took his eyes from Korso, not even when he took the tip of that meaty cock into his mouth, his lips forming a tight, irresistible ring for Korso to fuck. But the captain new better; Cale would not beat him, not in this game. He didn’t move. Not so much as a millimeter. 

“Suck it, Cale.” An order. A direct order. He half expected the boy to turn away and make him beg, but to his shock, Cale took him all the way in. 

Korso didn’t have time to scream; the boy’s lips and tongue teased his cock as Cale sucked him deeper in. Gripping Cale’s soft hair, Korso gave into the demands of his body and bucked his hips forward. Again. And again. And again. And Cale took all of him with the expertise of a well-practiced whore, his slender hands cupping the captain’s ass. 

He could feel the tension break, his balls clenching in preparation for orgasm. Although the kid seemed to know what he was doing, Korso didn’t want to choke him. He pulled out of that perfect heat and stroked his dick under the boy’s face, his hand holding Cale close. 

Cale leaned forward and opened his mouth, straining against Korso’s hand in order to catch the come. It was more than Korso could bear. “You want it so much, take it.” 

He jerked the blond head back and jacked off, splattering inside the boy’s mouth, spraying the kid’s cheeks and neck. Korso stood there, dazed. He watched the boy lick him clean, then wipe the come off his face and lick that up too, before falling back heavily to the floor, his hands wrapped around his own spent cock. So, the kid had come again, and just from giving a blow job. He was starting to like this junior, a lot more than he should. 

Korso crouched down, staring deeply into Cale’s eyes. The kid looked like a lost little puppy right then, so eager for approval, hungry to know he’d done well. The captain quietly titled his head down and licked his own come off the boy’s neck. 

“Stars, kid, you were wonderful. Magnificent,” he whispered in the boy’s ear. 

“Hmmm. Joe?” 

Korso snapped his head up, unused to someone calling his first name. 

Cale looked up at him through sleepy, hooded eyes. “Thank you.” The blond smiled genuinely, nuzzling him playfully. 

“You’re welcome,” Korso heard himself say, in a voice too warm to possibly be his own. 

He rolled them over, so that Cale draped across his chest, and just let them lay there, feeling the kid’s heart beat against his chest. Occasionally, when the boy could rouse himself, they traded languid kisses. 

“I like the taste of you, Joe,” Cale whispered. 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Obviously there were layers of meaning to the boy’s tone; layers he couldn’t afford to notice. After a brief silence, he decided to grunt non-committally and stroke two fingers up and down the boy’s spine. Softly, he brushed his hand over the smooth skin of Cale’s lower back, lazily tracing the dimples there with his forefinger. 

“Love the way that feels . . .” 

He smiled. If the crew could see them like this, pants down around their hips, the two of them cuddling on the cold metal floor of the docking bay . . . Well, the crew would see them like this in a minute, if he didn’t get moving. “Cale?” he murmured. 

“Hmm?” The kid sounded half-gone. 

“Nothing. Just rest.” Korso sighed, and waited for the boy to fall asleep. It didn’t take long; he was exhausted and malnourished. Coupled with the fact that he just out-maneuvered the Drej army and had fantastic sex in a docking bay, he had earned the right to nod off. 

Once he was certain the kid was sleeping, Korso disentangled their limbs and buttoned their pants back up. 

He paused to lift the boy’s palm, the key to the rest of the universe, and came close to kissing it. He shook his head, cursing himself, and moved to pick the boy up and carry him to sick bay to complete the tests. He had more important things to do than entertain hopeless dreams. 

Cale fit perfectly in his arms; some part of his mind registered that. The boy curled into him, his straggly arms dangling down his sides, his warm breath puffing out against Korso’s neck. The captain sighed. “Don’t get used to it, Korso,” he chided himself under his breath. “This star is already burnt out.” 

~*~

Later that night, all of Cale’s tests came back normal. As Korso knew they would. The minor cuts caused by Drej lasers were completely healed, and Cale was in perfect health. 

Korso was in his rack, stretched out on his humble little bunk, the gleam of the Nova they orbited the only light in his room. He lay there, his hands folded behind his head, his eyes closed. Staring into the darkness, dwelling on the light. Trying to get some shut-eye. Trying not to think about the boy. Trying, anyway . . . 

His bedroom door shifted open and closed so quickly, Korso had to crack an eye to make sure he had heard it. He opened both eyes when he saw the svelte figure at the foot of his bed.

Cale. 

The boy looked lost, lonely. Unsure, for a moment. But then the defiant pride crept back into his stance, into his jaw-line and shoulders. And Korso recognized it for the bullshit that it was. The kid was scared, and he had good reason to be. Korso was scared too; this was getting out of hand. 

Not a word was spoken; Korso simply rose off the bed and waited for Cale to come to him. With agonizing slowness, the kid eventually stood before him, his body swaying slightly forward. That was all the permission Korso needed. He reached out and crushed Cale to him, letting the boy melt against him. A soft sigh from Cale . . . 

He leaned back, walking backward to the bed, tumbling down and taking the boy with him. Cale straddled clumsily on top of him. Carefully, so as not to push the kid too fast, Korso swept the backs of his fingers over Cale’s face, then stroked his neck, and finally massaged the tension from his shoulders and arms. The boy arched into his touch, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

He was all seriousness, however, when the boy opened his eyes and pierced him with a worshipful gaze. “Joe,” Cale whispered. 

“What?” Korso whispered back. 

“Kiss me.” 

He complied, gently seducing that mouth down to meet his, letting his tongue slip in and out of those parted lips. Cale didn’t fight him this time, but sweetly surrendered to Korso’s invasion. 

Korso jumped a bit when Cale began massaging him through his sleeping gear. Instantly, his dick responded. “Cale . . .” 

“Joe.” The boy rained kisses down across his jaw-line, that young body pressing closer . . . harder . . . rocking . . . surging . . . “Joe.” 

“Aw, kid.” Korso flipped them over. He pushed the boy’s nightshirt up to his shoulders and bent to lap at Cale’s nipples. 

“Ha! Agh!” 

Korso grinned and bit down lightly, taking a nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue over its tormented tip. 

“Oh, Joe . . .” 

First one nipple, then the next, pinching and pulling and grazing and raking across the kid’s chest. Then he lowered his mouth, licking hot trails over Cale’s abdomen. Several times he had to use the band of his forearm to hold the kid down. He had the boy writhing by the time he circled Cale’s belly button.

“Joe! Please!” 

He tore the kid’s shirt off with one swift rip. Korso bit his lip, realizing that things were moving too fast again. He got up, fighting off the wave of dizziness and Cale’s heart-wrenching protest. “Undress me.” 

Cale paused, gulping back a sob. Then he stood, his bare chest glowing in the Nova’s light. Shaky fingers gripped the rim of Korso’s shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Korso watched the boy’s face carefully, registering every expression. 

Cale painted invisible lines across his chest, tracing his muscles reverently. “How did you get these scars, Joe?” 

“Battle,” Korso said, not opening the topic up for discussion. 

“But—” 

“Undress me, Cale.” 

Cale looked up, confused, but obedient, taking the zipper of the captain’s pants between his thumb and forefinger. Soon Korso was naked.

“Now, do yourself.” 

“Huh? Oh.” Cale slipped out of his pants, letting the last bit of clothing heap in a pile on the floor. 

They stood there for a moment, their naked bodies responding to each other, the temptation to touch irresistible. 

“Cale?” 

The boy flew to him, wrapping wiry arms around his shoulders and burying his face in Korso’s neck. Cale trembled against him silently. The boy didn’t cry, but Korso could tell he wanted to. Badly. 

“What is it, Cale?” Korso stroked the blond hair back. 

“It’s too much. I’m just one person. Oh, stars, Joe.” 

“Kid,” he pulled back, lifting the boys face to his, “if anyone can do this, it’s you.” 

“Why? Why is this on my shoulders?” Cale looked angry, and tired. And young.

“Because. They are the only shoulders in the universe strong enough to bear it.” Korso kissed the youth’s forehead, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Your father believed in you, Cale.” 

Cale sneered. “Yeah, well. Look how that turned out.” 

“Cale—” 

“I know. My father was a great man. But I’m not my father!” 

“No, you’re not, dammit! And not a single day goes by, that I don’t wish I could have saved him! But I couldn’t. So it’s just you and me, kid. Not great odds for the human race, I’ll grant you, but it’s all we got.” Korso realized he was shaking the boy, so he stopped and held Cale at arm’s length. Which was a useless gesture, he knew, the moment he looked into the boy’s eyes. 

“Joe,” Cale whispered. 

“Fuck!” Korso just gave in and pulled the boy close to him, letting the kid burrow into his warmth. This was the hope for all mankind? This frightened child? 

“Joe?” 

“Hm?” Korso closed his eyes, curling into himself for a moment, his heart heavy. 

“Make love to me?” 

That had him snapping his eyes open. “Cale?” 

Cale pulled back and stared up at him eagerly. “It could be our last chance, with the Drej on the move and all. If we . . . if I fail, I want . . .” Cale looked down at the floor. “I want it to be you,” he whispered. 

“Oh boy.” Korso didn’t think. He just kissed the kid. Turning slightly, he lowered them to the bed. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh yes.” Green-blue eyes, the color of the sea nearby, when he was a child . . . He could have refused. Pulled away and dismissed the boy. But he didn’t want to. Not for all the star systems in the galaxy. Not for his life. Not for his future. Tomorrow he would let the boy down. Tonight . . . Tonight he would try to live up to all of Cale’s illusions. 

“Spread your legs.” The command came out more gruff and hungry than he’d intended, but it was too late to take it back. 

Those lithe legs parted. He slid down the boy’s frame, his face resting inches over that gorgeous cock. “Lift your hips.” 

Cale obeyed, raising slightly off the bed, and Korso bit back a groan as he saw the tight little hole. As gently as he could, the captain cupped one buttock in each hand and lifted the boy to his mouth, lapping generously at his entrance. 

“Joe! Ohhhh. What are you . . . ?” 

Korso parted the globes of flesh with his thumbs, running his tongue back and forth over Cale’s hot, tight asshole. Questing deeply, he slicked the passage with his lips and tongue, preparing it with his thumbs and fingers. By the time he felt Cale was ready, the boy griped the headboard with one hand and his cock with the other. 

“No, no. You save that for later, kid.” Korso removed Cale’s hand, letting the erection bob painfully unattended. “Now, are you ready for me?’ 

“Yes!” Cale hissed. 

Korso brought the kid’s legs around his waist, positioning himself carefully. “This is gonna hurt.” 

“Yeah, I know. Everything worth having does.” 

Korso smiled genuinely at the wisdom in that, and thrust steadily forward. He had to grit his teeth and close his eyes when Cale wailed and clenched down. He drove in deeper; Cale arched his back, starting to hyperventilate.

“Easy, kid, easy. Here. I want you to hold on to me. And if it hurts, you can just take it out on me. Here.” Korso removed the boy’s hands from their twisted grip on the sheets and placed them on his forearms, grimacing when Cale cut his fingernails into the flesh there. “There you go. Feel better?” 

“Oh sure,” Cale hissed through his teeth, his nails digging deep enough to draw blood. “Nothing like getting your ass torn to pieces.”

“Okay, okay.” Korso held still, his cock only halfway in the shuddering, spasming body beneath him. 

After about a minute, the kid seemed to relax, his breath returning to normal. “I’m sorry, kid. This is the only way.” Korso lunged forward, burying himself fully, wincing when Cale screamed. 

“Joe!” 

“I know. I know. I know, baby. Sh. I’m here. Take it out on me, Cale. Take it out on me . . .” 

Korso slowly rocked in and out of Cale, his ass slick with saliva . . . and blood, unquestionably. Eventually the nails in his arms and back turned into fingertips, then flattened palms. The cries became breathy, sensual moans. Pain turned into pleasure, and Cale lifted to meet Korso’s thrusts.

“Stars, Joe, it’s good . . .”

“Cale . . . lift your leg. Like this . . . yes.” 

Cale's legs wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder; his arms wrapped around Korso’s neck and arm. 

He kissed Cale, long and slow. Deeply. He nibbled on the kid’s earlobe, took the time to map his ear. He wanted it to last much longer than he knew it would. Soon Cale, and the urgings of his own body, whipped him faster, his hips snapping back and forth.

“Mo-more, J-Joe.”

“Yes.” 

Minute thrusts, snapping his pelvis forward . . . Korso fucked Cale hard and fast. The boy came first, splattering the captain’s chest. “Oh, Cale . . .” He came, frozen, as Cale touched their foreheads together. Then he collapsed, drained.

The kid said nothing, simply ran his fingers through Korso’s short, choppy hair. Long minutes passed, and then Korso lifted himself off of Cale, moving to rest on his side. “You okay?” 

Cale nodded. “What did it feel like . . . from where you were?” 

“Like . . .” Korso took time to consider it. “Like a star exploded inside me. You know.” 

Cale shook his head. 

“No, of course you don’t know.” Korso smiled. “But it’s time you found out.” 

“Huh?” 

The captain smirked mischievously as his hand crept down and engulfed Cale’s limp shaft. “I said, it’s time you found out, Cale.” 

“I can't come again. You’re crazy.”

"You're young yet." Korso patiently fondled Cale until he got hard again. “How ‘bout it, kid? Wouldn’t you like to ‘thank’ me right into the mattress? Hmm?”

Cale blinked. “You mean, you’d let me . . .?” 

“Yes, Cale.” He smiled softly. “You gonna make me beg, kid?” 

Cale’s eyes darkened. “Hell, yes, I’m gonna make you beg. How bad do you want it, Korso?” 

He laughed. “Very well, if you insist. Please, kid? Please, Cale? Put it deep inside me, take me —oooouff!” 

The boy jumped on top of him, his warm palms splaying across Korso’s chest as he kissed the captain sharply. Cale was starved for him, for his attention, his approval . . . Husky. Needy. Clumsy, even. Stars, but Cale reminded him of himself. 

Korso looked down at his chest. “Use this,” he said, scooping up some of Cale’s come. 

“What do you mean?” 

Korso coated Cale’s shaft. “Smear it around some, kiddo. Helps to ease your way.” Korso kept his tone steady and quiet, hoping to calm Cale. The boy was trembling again.

Korso rolled over and came up on all fours. “Start out this way. It’s better for you this way. Feels better.” 

Cale rested the tip of his cock at Korso’s crack. “Joe?” 

“Do it, kid.” 

Cale thrust in all the way. Korso had to go down on his elbows and bite the pillow to keep from screaming. It had been years since he’d been on the receiving end of things . . . But he managed to keep quiet. 

“Oh Joe, feels so, so good.” Cale’s arms wrapped around him, hands massaging his sides. “What do I do now?” the boy whispered. 

Korso groaned. “What ever comes to mind?” 

Cale laughed. His cock grazed over something buried deep inside Korso, and the captain found himself arching uncontrollably. “Don’t rush it. Make it last.” 

Cale whimpered, pistoning his hips a little faster. “I’m trying . . .” 

Korso let his head hang down, closing his eyes, simply enjoying the feel of Cale claiming him this way. “Cale.” 

“Joe, you’re really tight!” 

Korso held onto the headboard with his free hand as Cale fucked him. He was so proud of the boy; so dangerously filled to the brim with admiration and want and pain and pleasure. 

Cale pounded into him a few more times, then came in a rush. The boy rested his forehead on Korso’s back, gulping air. Korso could feel the warm seed dribble down his thighs.

He spun around, lifting Cale up off the bed. Dangling his legs over the side, Korso laid his back to the mattress, forcing Cale to straddle his cock. Korso planted his feet on the floor and bucked his hips up, making Cale ride him. Cale’s hard body bounced up and down with the force of Korso’s thrusts, moaning and panting like an excited harlot, yet his face and his eyes remained as innocent as the child he'd once met back on Earth. 

“Yes, Joe. Yes.” 

All too soon, Korso came, clawing and biting at Cale. Humanity’s last hope. And his ticket to freedom . . .Sweet, vibrant, effortless Cale. 

He opened his arms and let Cale flounce over on him. 

Some moments later, when Korso had enough presence of mind, he pulled Cale up so that they both faced the headboard, and then he wrapped the blankets around them, too bone-weary to worry about cleaning up. Instantly, the kid snuggled up to him, resting his cheek over Korso’s heart.

“Don’t do it, Korso. Don’t you dare,” the captain muttered under his breath. 

Cale yawned. “Do what, Joe?” 

The kid was almost asleep; Korso could sense it. He slid his fingertips up and down the boy’s spine, hoping to avoid answering that question until he absolutely had to. 

“Hm. Joe?” 

“Yeah?” Korso whispered. 

“I love the way that feels.” 

With a choked voice he said, “Get some sleep, kid. You’ll need it for tomorrow.” 

The kid was soon out like a light.

He had to call the Drej. He was long overdue to report in. And they would not be pleased if they had to track him through his implant. 

But not tonight. That could wait until tomorrow. Tonight . . . tonight he’d held a star in his hands. He would save betrayal for tomorrow. And it would hurt. But everything worth having does.


End file.
